


Afflicted

by FictionallyAttractive



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 07:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18048068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionallyAttractive/pseuds/FictionallyAttractive
Summary: She spoke first, emitting a few rolls of her symphonic voice into his ear where she leaned. The shudder sinking through his entire body when she leaned on him with her weight.Then the entity spoke for her. "There's no god that can save you here."





	Afflicted

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted an excuse to do drabbles for my boi, Quentin ♥ And then this slaying queen showed up and consumed me, so thanks for that devs ♥
> 
> Tumblr: Fictionallyattractive
> 
> Hit me up for new ideas or to chat sometime ♥

     More than anything, he hated Freddy Krueger. It was a mental list ticking down from top to bottom on the brief rattle of chains restricting his wrists. The sound echoed between stone and void as the grate above trickled rays of burdening light against his quilted shirt.

  
     That was it then, he hated when the light used to blind him from between the folds of his old bedroom's curtains. And he _hated_ when he was forced to come home every time the streetlights flicked on because that was the disgusting curfew his dad had set when he was just some lost kid forgetting to take his meds on time.

     Well, that was one good thing- he never had to remember or forget that ever again. And there were no curtains- no streetlights that mattered once it was all fog and darkness hitting him hard in the scent of metallic blood and curdled flesh as it haunted him in the crude tomb that filled his head with the distant lullaby of faded screams and pleas.

     Quentin's own voice had mixed among them just prior to his arrival here. The call of agony having twisted from his lips when she crept up on him silently under the whir of lively machinery and pistons distracting all the attention span he had. Whispers- that was what finally got his eyes on her. _All of her._

     She loomed over him like Michael, maybe even taller than Michael as the whimsical shape and chain in her adorned fingers swayed between the gap that still forced them apart by the time he had the time to stagger backward on the sneakers that only seemed to drag away the dirt under him in place.

     He'd grabbed the generator just to propel himself forward, launching into a dash that hindered him when he dared look back into the fatal eyes of a woman that stood regally in poise. Her fixation appearing dark when she stared him down, the twitch in her features frightening him when he started to slip between the dense trees of the Red Forest.

      _She was fast_. Faster than some of the other killers that had slashed him down in the past when she took the brutal lunge that left a scream barreling with great force out of his lungs. The censer bludgeoned him hard in his shoulder blade, sending a violent ripple through his skin and muscle when they locked up even mid-run. He could feel the damage it left behind when he shambled ahead of her, moaning out with the speckles of blood falling beneath his shirt to the ground below.

     Quentin could still feel it- the sharp injury that destroyed part of his back when he shifted on the hardened slab that restrained him. There was probably a pool of blood dried out beneath him, but he just had no idea if it was all his own. Didn't even wanna think about it when his eyes turned to the shadows crossing above him, his body shuddering and throat swallowing as she returned.

      _She said she would_ , at least he thought she did when he found himself recalling what it was like falling to her, the palms of his hands smashing the stairs of the temple she claimed like he begged for forgiveness to the statues that glared down on his shameful loss. She bashed him again before then, his blood oozing from another vicious gash that trailed down his side in rivulets opened in the fabric of his shirt.

     " _Save me_ ," He murmured, begging someone- _anyone_.

     The silver of his tarnished cross hung low to the steps, skipping softly with a tiny set of clinks that moved beneath his fallen body sinking against the temple for support. And all she did was watch him, moving around him in a few rustles and heavy gazes he tried so hard not to witness with his head squeezed hard along the fold of his arms just so she wouldn't see how he screwed his eyes shut in fear of the shadow that crossed him broadly in her stance.

     When she spoke over him, it was elegant- almost blessing as Quentin's eyes shot open suddenly, nails digging hard into the stones when her voice towered over him powerfully and sang out. Their killers never spoke. But she did. In a language he couldn't even wrack his brain to understand as the menacing tremble of her chain thrashed around his throat before he could so much as garble out anything in response.

     He felt it drag- constricting harshly as she forced him back to his feet and yanked like a leash til he gave in and let his feet slide behind him weakly up the subtle stairs she escorted him past with a few slight chants and purrs under her precious breath.

     Something made him listen, ears tuned to everything she uttered while she let him dangle by her grasp, the scent of burned sage and herbs turning his nerves to numbness when he followed into his own blackout when the oxygen fell short in his breaths.

     It still hadn't come back either. Quentin felt like he was choking on momentary absence of words that were lodged in his throat, swallowing away a lump as it formed no matter how dry it felt. _Painful even._

     And she was coming back to him, her slow steps gliding back into the strange chamber beneath the temple in an almost silent patter he wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the deadly silence aside from the gentle stir of his own chains now. Or his heavier breaths ruggedly gasping out as the fear rose in his heaving chest.

     No one ever found him, or if they had, they never bothered to wake his unconscious form stored right where she'd left him now making a bit more of a fuss once the white of her skirt fluttered back into the darkness. The threatening tilt of her weapon dangling like a guiding lantern before her steady pace as she found a pause in the one of many doorways to the grotesque room.

    "Are you gonna mori me?" He exhaled, scared out of the wits he forgot he even had when the sound of his voice sounded rougher than normal, choking on its own vocals with a gag that came out before he could control himself. " _Please_ \- no-"

     Maybe she didn't understand. It was taunting; the idea that she had words to offer, but not the ones he needed to feel the calm of her hovering figure in the dungeon. Nothing against her age, but she was almost ancient compared to his own lifetime. No English to her name as her adorned talons reached for his face carefully, forming a sort of claw around his cheek just as Quentin recoiled fearfully.

     The curls of his hair caught around the ragged gemstones wedged in the tarnished gold, falling away when her grasp dipper past his face to the divet of his collarbone. He could only fixate on the pulse of her wounds, gasping for breath as it never came to him, slowing so roughly and suddenly that he choked. Grasping at the fold of metal around his wrists helplessly when his lungs ravaged themselves dryly.

     "What's happening?" He tried not to panic, but that was a losing battle. Her head tilted, the decay of half of her face gleaming with the rot of aged pus and a composed quirk of her lips as they revealed only the edge of yellowed teeth. She wasn't smiling, no, she was calm. Her index finger pressing down where the top buttons of his shirt began and formed out the shape of the cross above.

     "I _can-'t_ breathe," He swallowed, forcing air into his chest when it was getting harder. And she had barely touched him, caressing the silver of his religious icon until it was resting in the palm of her coppered flesh. Muscle tissue and bone taking the coin in her fingers just to turn it over in the faint light above his body that lurched slightly as the chain tugged his neck. "My cross- _nk!_ "

     She was rough by mistake, revealing her kinder intent by lowering her hold after hearing her victim choke on her grip. Her eyes were like ice, raised along the surface of the intricate symbol until they met Quentin's own blue that widened in damn near shock when she began to speak over its surface. Eloquent and soft, yet nothing he could understand with an immediate shake of his head.

     "I'm sorry- I _can't_ \- I don't speak your language."

     She didn't stop, not right away as her hand lifted the large censer over his body as the other let his cross drop into place over the teal over his shirt. The aromatic flood of something potent and suffocating filled him instead- burning his eyes til they closed and forced a few rapid coughs from his lips that he couldn't reach on the rattle of his restraints.

     " _I can save you,_ " her voice seemed to whisper, the truth of the words causing his brain to almost shake in his skull as he whined aloud with the pain of whatever this was filling him. Filling his body- he glanced down, feeling the stake of something clench at his legs that had tried kicking before but hadn't managed to get far.

     " _You wish to be saved-_ "

     "Just _kill_ me- please!" He started to cry out, the blackened tendrils of his darkest fears creeping over his lower limbs like winding branches. Spidery and thin- the gross, prickling hairs sending jolts through his flesh as they stuck in him like spines and left his whimpers heard by the woman that let out a sound that startled him. "Please- _don't_."

     She seemed to gurgle, gagging in the back of her throat on whatever ailed her as her hands folded above his torso, resting there while all he could think of was the condition of her rotting skin. The sores- their green edges and tattered state.

     They were touching him, sliding along him as he begged her not to. She didn't understand him like he briefly understood her- instead choosing to investigate his shoulders, fastening on him like iron clamps until the most he could do was tremble. This was it for him, feeling the desire to vomit rise on his guts and throat that locked up in her proximity that grew closer to his terrified face.

     She spoke first, emitting a few rolls of her symphonic voice into his ear where she leaned. The shudder sinking through his entire body when she leaned on him with her weight.

     Then the entity spoke for her. " _There's no god that can save you here._ "

     He wanted to cry, biting hard on his lower lip to shut the fuck up- hide everything and maybe she'd grow tired of handling him. But it was never that easy.

     " _We are always better off dead_."

     "Then kill me." He tried again, pleading, murmuring it despite her lack of understanding as she pulled away, her touch lingering across his cheek that she held in place. Watching as Quentin tried weakly to tug away and escape, but he was fixed down tightly by the tendrils she too feared in certain despair.

    _It was awful_. She tasted foul, fed by the lesions of crude decay and age that left him holding down acid in the back of his mouth til it flooded over his tongue. And it did nothing to quell his nausea- biding time for the abrupt kiss that left his body shaking aggressively. Left him groaning out with misery just because whatever she wanted of him was futile.

     In affection anyway. He didn't want her affection. He wanted freedom- death as it were while his legs struggled to squirm out of the powerful grasp of the entity while it wound over him almost possessively like her fingers along his chin that gave him another gentle kiss. Chaste.

     She seemed to prey on his weakest moments now, half of her missing lip skimming his own with a gasp that ushered a few precious words from her breathing as it bottomed out heatedly and all he could do was whine. Suffering with silent breaths that still struggled to come out as anything other than rasps.

     Only now, he understand why.

     And it killed him inside. _Literally_. His body trembled violently, coughing loudly as the plague pushed herself away from her selected partner curiously on his harsh objection. Blood seeped at the corner of his lip, oozing down his jawline where a single finger offered to slide it away in a trail of carmine.

     Bile built up in his chest, leaving the crushing desire to be sick to weigh on everything he had left in him. Down to nothing but struggle- moaning pitifully just as her hands fluttered down the front of his shirt like she had the power to ease the pain that settled on his form. Her absolute doing that did him in with another wheeze and dramatic plea.

     Quentin was sick, maybe sicker than he once thought when all that clung to his mind was how tender she truly was when her hips had started to straddle him over finally. The agile pressure of her lean legs almost nothing compared to the spidery void that held him down anyway. It was like she was caring for him, staking a claim over him as her breath pushed along his throat when he leaned his head back and stared only at the grate overhead with wide eyes that paled slowly in the pain of his illness.

     He felt himself start to retch, her hands crawling down his chest on every opened button that made a sound echo in his ears. Hollow, making his brain spin and dull with confusion as the whole room closed in tighter. His vision turned to almost nothing anyway, focused on whatever made the loudest sound or whatever made his body shiver between pain and pleasure once her nails started to scrape down his abdomen and all he could do was moan.

     " _You will feel nothing,_ " She had spoken to him, stirring in his gaze as her vocals vibrated against his jugular and left him begging her to get away. If whatever he was saying was even audible anymore- he wasn't sure.

     He merely felt her mouth on his neck, the scratch of those painful nails guiding down to the top of his belted jeans. That was where the entity lie as well, the spiked limbs of its form waiting for its minion to obey and make her way lower on their prey's body as he started into delusions. The dungeon shifted within- spiraling it felt like as Quentin's head snapped over to the edge of the slab and projected whatever rose up his throat to the grime of the floor before she could stop him.

  _So this was sickness, huh?_ He wouldn't remember; he hadn't had the flu since what felt like years ago now. There was a time when he'd succumbed to the pleasure of food poisoning before Freddy reared his ugly mug the last time around. And he spent the night gripping porcelain til his knuckles were burning white and his gut hurt worse in the muscle than on the inside.

     His face had glowed red for hours, body weak to the point where the most he could have mustered was to lie there on his dad's bathroom floor to bitch and moan. Yeah, like he had something to cry about then.

     It felt foolish now, he realized, purging all he had while she latched her long fingers back into the brown curls atop his head and yanked him back to see her once beautiful face in full view. Lacerations forming the wings of her liner she never wore- probably never even needed it. _Never had it._

     " _Fuck_ \- I'm gonna--" He turned his head again, letting out a garbled cry before finding himself poisoned all over again, retching loudly in the silent chamber until she was soothing him with delicate touches feathering down his sides. " _God,_ help me-"

     He didn't even mean that anymore when he asked. He meant anyone else that would answer his false prayers- Jake, David, Feng. Whoever dared linger behind in the trial where he was a victim of just another taste of immense hell. It tasted like human flesh and grave dirt. Like incense disguising the flavour of catacombs lacing on her lips that still haunted him and breathed the plague further into his body as it began to wither.

_To look like her._

     But, damn, he was too far gone.

     He would do anything for it to be over by then, blinking bleakly to the one whose hands touched him however he wanted if it meant hearing him keen for her. He just did as she asked, whining softly as she skimmed his hips under her curious touch, skirt raised slightly along his body while he struggled to watch.

     No part of him actually wanted this. Didn't even find her attractive, not as long as she lived as mummy unpreserved from her lifetime as hung on his body like a weightless perch. But it would be over soon. _Just never soon enough._

     Quentin could see the outline of lesions appearing on his own chest, lumps of pus and swollen tissue that gathered in rows under her clammy touch that streaked all over his helpless body. He imagined his face looked much worse, aching and pulsing with the disgust of rot spewing all across his flesh while he watched the belt of his jeans slide out with her inexperienced touch.

     It took her a bit to figure it out, but there was a whisper there to guide her- a master that taught its pet well with grooming touches that stroked along her side just as pleasingly as her voice did for her prey once before.

     Suddenly, he missed being a teenager. Missed that stupid _fucking_ curfew and streetlights. Missed his dad shouting at him to turn his volume down on every electronic he ever owned. And he missed waking up so hard that it hurt til he decided to take care of himself, the low groans enough to make him wonder if anyone ever heard him.

     Back then, sex was on his mind- naturally. Craved it despite never getting any, but that hadn't slowed his roll for it. Now he suffered through it- focusing on the sway of her pretty hips when they took his over and rode harder on his length that jolted at the attention. It was like he was injected with hormones- purring aloud despite his agony just because she was clumsy. Because she was following the lead of the shaft to the head and he was melting in her grasp.

     He was awake. Part of him was anyway.

     That was all she needed for her end of the pleasure, slowly bringing the blood to his cock while her victim cried out for it all to stop pathetically beneath her. The entity fed off his despair- his misery.

     But it devoured her sensuality. Her enjoyment of the things she had been deprived of all her life til  that very moment when she relived the glee of her own youth in his frozen eyes. If she wanted this all along, she was satisfied. Her walls swallowing him tightly until he let out weak moan and sank back all the way onto her altar and felt his body convulse aggressively.

     The chains shook, clinking loudly behind his head when her pace left him choking on blood at the back of his throat. _Boiling him. Drowning him._

     Everything _hurt_ , but it was ending. Going dark with the pleased coos of her voice towering him, her nails gouging at the back of his neck and chest where she held onto him for support. He couldn't tell, but it seemed like she would be content in expression.

     His eyes were red with the blood that seeped out of the corners now, burning endlessly while he cried out for her, gasping in coughs and shattered vocals that emitted senselessly from his lips gone rough with bumpy callouses and lacerations she created from every last kiss he would feel forever.

     Much like the ones formed where the drift of his cross lie on his bare pectorals that she touched kindly with fascination. In another world, she was innocent.

     A simple woman or morals and duties that took on a love for him so deep it brought bloody tears to Quentin's eyes. Her _obsession._ Her type that revealed itself as the plague caressed his face one last time in the heft of his breaths and shudders, hips arching against hers without even knowing what his feeble body was capable of after all the ache and destruction.

     " _I'll see you again,_ " She murmured through the entity, its cruel whispers washing over his consciousness in slithering limbs that overtook his torso and sides while she used him for pleasure. He was dying, picked apart by the two that adored him in that moment. But he let it happen, letting out a last breath as she let her body go relaxed and still on his form solemnly when he started to part from her. " _It is meant to be."_

     Adiris missed him already, her palms lain upon his still chest as she blessed him with the words she knew by trade. Swallowing them in fear as the creature between them devoured her lover in vines of its own kind- wiry, dark- eerie. It stole him away this time, pulling him into the distance where she could not follow as she watched with tears that refused to fall this time.

     He had no name she could speak, her breaths shallow for him as she closed her eyes and prayed. _Wishing for home._


End file.
